1 O Britain, praise thy mighty God,
And make his honours known abroad,
He bid the ocean round thee flow;
Not bars of brass could guard thee so.

2 Thy children are secure and blest;
Thy shores have peace, thy cities rest;
He feeds thy sons with finest wheat,
And adds his blessing to their meat.

3 Thy changing season he ordains,
Thine early and thy later rains:
His flakes of snow like wool he sends,
And thus the springing corn defends.

4 With hoary frost he strews the ground;
His hail descends with clattering sound:
Where is the man so vainly bold
That dares defy his dreadful cold?

5 He bids the southern breezes blow,
The ice dissolves, the waters flow;
But he hath nobler works and ways
To call the Britons to his praise.

6 To all the Isle his laws are shown,
His gospel thro' the nation known;
He hath not thus reveal'd his word
To every land: Praise ye the Lord.